John O'Boyle/The Star-LedgerWeequahic High School football coach Altarik White, left, with Shabazz High School football coach Dave McCombs, says he is "eternally grateful" to McCombs for being the father figure in his life for so long.Altarik White swipes a brown napkin from the top of his desk in his office at Weequahic High and buries his face in it. The 39-year-old football coach then rises from his chair and heads for the bathroom to weep in privacy. White returns moments later and takes a deep breath. It’s always difficult for him to speak about Dave McCombs, the longtime Shabazz High football coach.

“I’m just happy I was able to meet a man like that,” White says. “Just happy. ... Grateful. ... Eternally grateful.”

A talented football player who often found mischief, White was a high school junior at Shabazz when his mother died from AIDS in 1987. It could have been the tipping point for the teenager — the despair could have pushed White down the wrong path — but McCombs was there to steer him in the right direction.

McCombs, the boyish head coach at Shabazz, invited White into his home, where he lived for the next eight months. More than football, McCombs taught White which fork was used for salad in restaurants and how to knot a necktie. The bond has only strengthened over the following decades.

White and McCombs will meet for the second time as head coaches Thursday morning at Shabazz Stadium in the restoration of the “Soul Bowl,” which is a matchup of the longtime Newark rival high schools. The student beat the teacher, 6-0, last year when the teams met.

“Dave McCombs will always be a special man in my life,” White says. “Dave McCombs will always be someone that I love.”

In the early 1980s, Dave McCombs had an impeccably coiffed Afro, drove a 280Z convertible and was fresh from a tryout with the Giants. A young Altarik White — and many other boys growing up in Newark — wanted to be just like him.

McCombs was 24 when he became head coach at Shabazz, his former high school, and the players often sang his praises at practice:

“Combing his waves ... cooool coach Dave ...”

White’s family moved around during his teenage years, but he ended up at Shabazz as a sophomore playing for McCombs, whose pretty-boy aura did not match his demeanor in practice. If players acted up, McCombs would deliver what he called “Old Faithful” across their chest — a swinging forearm that once jolted White so that snot sprayed from his nose.

McCombs was imposing physically and demanding from the sidelines, but he tempered that with his tender side, including his “Jewels of the Day,” which were nuggets of information designed to steer his players from the streets.

“Coach McCombs trained us to be men,” says Andre Taylor, one of White’s best friends and a Shabazz teammate. “He was so hard on us that you either had to fold or step up to the plate. And when he had his core players he could count on, he knew they weren’t going to fold for anything.”

McCombs was the first man to scream at White, but he was also the first man to tell him ,“I love you.”

The male guidance was a needed addition to White’s life since he grew up without his father around, sharing a home with his mother and three brothers. White was in large part the family caretaker, looking after brothers Hakim and Shahib, with whom he shared clothes and sleeping quarters.

White emerged as the star offensive player at Shabazz, and the relationship with McCombs grew. After White scored five touchdowns in one game as a junior, McCombs wrapped him in a hug on the sideline and lifted him off the ground.

“Like a proud father would do to his son after a good game like that,” White says.

The relationship took a drastic turn in October 1987.

McCombs immediately drove to White’s home when he heard Sheila White, Altarik’s mother, had died. The coach held his player in his arms and together they prayed in the living room. McCombs stayed with White late into the night. He even bought him a suit for the funeral.

“He’s a son,” McCombs said. “I call all my kids ‘son.’ At the time I was trying to save kids and help them. I needed to save him.”

That week, McCombs invited White to come live with his family. McCombs took White to restaurants for the first time and taught him that he could order more than just cheeseburgers. McCombs’ mother cooked White mounds of pancakes for breakfast. On weekends, they’d watch football games at McCombs’ alma mater, William Paterson, or trek to see his younger brother, Mark McCombs, play at Montclair State. It was the farthest White had traveled away from Newark.

White lived with McCombs until the spring of 1988 when he was adopted by a teacher at Shabazz, but the bond with McCombs stayed strong. White spent only three days at Dixie Junior College in Utah before he became homesick and returned home to Newark. The next season, after a call from McCombs, White was playing for William Paterson, where he became the school’s all-time leading rusher and was named an all-American. During one playoff game in upstate New York during the 1992 season, McCombs was one of a handful of people from Newark in the stands.

After graduation, White spent one season on the Miami Dolphins practice squad before he was released. He returned to Newark. Again, McCombs was there to guide him: White began coaching football under McCombs and teaching at Shabazz. Five years later, he was elevated to offensive coordinator.

When White left Shabazz in 2002 to become head coach at bitter rival Weequahic, it seemed a strain would be put on the relationship.

“I thought, ‘He’s a Benedict Arnold,’” McCombs says with a laugh. “No, I was happy for him. Like he says, ‘He loves black and gold, but orange and brown pays his bills.’”

White won the Group 2, Central Division state championship four years after joining Weequahic, but the moment was bittersweet. Despite two trips to the state championship game, McCombs has never won a title. It’s the only void in a storied career.

White was overcome with guilt after the victory.

“I felt undeserving because men like Dave McCombs have put in so much time and so much energy into thousands of young men,” White says. “And for me to win it so early in my career, I felt undeserving. He called me right after and he told me that he loved me. It really meant so much to me. Dave is a great man.”

McCombs has remained a father figure to White, who struggles to call him anything other than ‘Coach.’ McCombs counseled White through the slaying of his brother Hakim, and McCombs was also there for White after his beloved half-brother, Shahib White, committed suicide in June 2007. It was a death that sent tremors through Weequahic, where Shahib White was an assistant football coach, and Shabazz, where he had starred on the football team.

The death left White raw with emotion. McCombs offered to hold out the No. 1 jersey Shahib White had worn at Shabazz, but Altarik White declined. McCombs still kept the jersey out of the season opener.

Everything White has brought to Weequahic he says he learned from McCombs. The daily words of wisdom, the credit card bills for players in need of food or clothing, the unwavering enthusiasm — it’s all rooted in McCombs’ philosophy. Perhaps most important, White is another person helping to guide Newark teens and providing another option other than the street corners; almost the second coming of McCombs.

Says Taylor, “You can go to a Weequahic game and people that know both of them say, ‘Wow, they’re just alike.’”

To White, that’s the highest praise.

“I’m eternally grateful to him,” White begins, his voice cracking, trailing to a whisper. “It even breaks me down now to think about it. Twenty-three years later it still touches me. That’s probably one of the reasons I am what I am today, because of coach McCombs.